Chapter 53 - Ran Away to Sea by Mayne Reid
But short as was the time it appeared an age to me. With that dread secret shut up in my breast, every minute seemed an hour; and I knew not the moment that was to be our last. When the long-boat went down, I had resigned all hope—not dreaming that a raft could be got ready before the explosion would take place.
It is metaphorical to say that every minute seemed an hour; but so tardy did the time appear that I began to wonder why the awful event was so long delayed. Perhaps, thought I, the powder may be far down, covered over with other things—such as boxes and bales—and the fire has not yet been able to get at it? I knew that a barrel of powder, even when thrown into the midst of a red-hot fire, takes a considerable time to explode. An intense heat must be generated in the wood before the powder inside will ignite; and, for this reason, the barrel must be a good while exposed to the fire. Perhaps the flames had not yet reached it? Was this the reason why the catastrophe was delayed?
Or was it that the powder was not in the store-room, or the cabin either, or in the after-part of the vessel at all? About its whereabouts the skipper had said nothing, and it was upon this point I had desired explanation as the gig rowed off. A knowledge of this might have been of the greatest importance; but the captain had not even thrown out a hint. What after all if there was no gun-power on board? What if the man had meant it as a jest—ill-timed and unfeeling though it was?
What if he had intended it not as a piece of pleasantry, but an act of refined cruelty?
There were circumstances that favoured this last supposition. For the preceding twenty hours he had been at loggerheads with the crew. Ever since morning, since the commencement of the water trouble, the men had been sulky and mutinous, and both mate and captain had been slightly treated—their orders in most cases altogether disregarded. In fact, both had been bearded and threatened, and several angry altercations had occurred between them and the crew. It was natural they should feel spiteful and desirous of having revenge—natural for such men as they were—and might it not be to gratify this feeling, that the skipper had shouted back that gratuitous piece of intelligence, that there was gunpowder on board?
Fiendish as such conduct may appear, there was probability in the supposition. It would only be in keeping with the character of the man.
I really began to hope that such might be the case; and it again occurred to me to seek Ben and communicate the secret to him. He would be more likely to know whether the skipper had spoken truly or in cruel jest; and, if the former, perhaps he might be able to guess where the dangerous material was concealed, and might yet be in time to move it beyond the reach of the fire.
These reflections occupied me but a few seconds of time; and as soon as I had made them I hurried over the decks in search of my friend, with the design of making the disclosure of my secret.
I found him among the rest, busy about the raft. He was wielding an axe, and cutting away some of the sheeting of the bulwarks, to help in its construction. I caught him by the sleeve, and with a gesture drew him a little to one side; and then in a whisper I made known to him the parting speech of the captain.
I saw that the announcement startled him. Brave man though he was, it was enough to bring the paleness to his cheeks, and cause him to stand for some moments speechless and irresolute.
“You’re sure he said that—sure o’ it, Willim?”
“Quite sure—they were his very words.”
“A barrel o’ powder aboard!”
“He said it just as they rowed off. I’ve been thinking he might have done it out of spite—to frighten us?”
“No, no, lad, it’s true—shiver my timbers! if it an’t. The powder—’twas believed we’d turned it all over to King Dingo. Now I remember something. I thought I seed the skipper hide a barrel o’ it after it was counted out; he stole it from the nigger, for sartin. I thought so at the time, but warn’t sure. Now I be sure. There be a barrel aboard, sure as we’re livin’! Heaven o’ mercy—we’re lost, lad!—we’re lost!”
The momentary relief, which I had experienced from my late conjecture, was at an end; and my apprehensions were now as acute as ever. It was no jest then—the skipper had been in earnest. The gunpowder was on board—the stolen barrel—and for this theft we were now to be sacrificed while the thief himself had escaped!
Brace stood for some seconds, as if paralysed with the intelligence I had given him. He seemed to watch and listen for the crisis, and so did I.
After a short while, however, my companion recovered his presence of mind and appeared busy thinking out some plan of deliverance.
But a few seconds only was he silent, and then, making a sign for me to go after him, he glided towards the bows of the vessel.
No one saw or followed us, and there was nobody forward beyond the windlass. At the moment all were busy amidships, in getting the great mast overboard, and cutting away the strong ropes of the rigging.
Brace continued on over the bow-bulwarks, until he had got between the bumpkin and bowsprit-shrouds, and close to the figure-head of the vessel. Here he stopped and beckoned me towards him. I crawled over, and stood by his side.
“Not a word, lad!—not a word of what you’ve heard! It can do no good, but only harm. If they get to know’t, they’ll knock off work—every one o’ ’em—and then we must all either roast or drown. Let ’em go on with the raft—maybe there’ll be time enough yet. Almighty grant that there may be, Willim! For all that, ’tan’t no harm to try and save ourselves if we can. The powder’s sure to be about the cabin, and we’ll stand a better chance here forrard. But we ’ant a-goin’ to stop here longer than we can help. Look sharp, now, and give me a hand! These two planks ’ll float us. You cut some rope, then, while I knock ’em off—there, cut clear the jib-sheets and downhauls—that’ll do—quick, lad! quick!”
Thus directing me, Brace, who had brought the axe along with him commenced knocking off the great broad boards that stretched on both sides from the bulwarks to the figure-head, and upon which the name of the vessel was painted. With a few strokes of the axe the strong man was able to detach them; and, as soon as this was done, he slung them in the ropes I had already obtained, and lowered them down to the water.
Climbing out upon the bowsprit, he next detached the dolphin-striker, and it also was lowered down, while I made myself useful by cutting through the martingales, also the fore-topgallant and royal-stays, that fastened this spar in its place. Several other pieces of timber yielded to the axe; and all, having been thrown downward, floated together upon the motionless surface of water.
Brace, now perceiving that there was enough to make a raft to carry the two of us, flung the axe into the shrouds; and, gliding down a rope upon the floating timbers, called upon me to follow him. It was at this moment I heard the cry from the main-deck that the great raft was ready; and, looking back, I perceived that the men were hurrying over the side and descending upon it. If I remained but a moment longer I should be the last upon the burning wreck.
No!—not the last—far from it. There were nearly five hundred more—five hundred human beings on board the Pandora! and though they were men with black skins, they had lives to lose—lives as precious to them as ours were to us.
A terrible spectacle was comprehended in that backward glance—a sight, the remembrance of which never fails to send a chill through my veins, and a shuddering through my frame.